


The Adventures of Jimmy & The Magic Man

by sobefarrington



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom, wholock - Fandom
Genre: 11 - Freeform, Jim Moriarty - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform, The Doctor - Freeform, The Eleventh Doctor - Freeform, Wholock, Young!Moriarty - Freeform, doctor who - Freeform, eleven - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobefarrington/pseuds/sobefarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy Moriarty was a nice kid who got a bum deal. And then he met The Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adventures of Jimmy & The Magic Man

Wexford, 1983

Jimmy walked home from school alone.

Every day.

He trekked the fifteen blocks in a hand-me-down coat and shoes by himself, his face slung low to hide the evidence of tears that stained his face since early afternoon.

The children had been picking on him again. 

Or still. Even Jim, as smart as he was, couldn’t distinguish if it had ever actually stopped for more than a moment for breath catching. 

‘Little Jimmy Has No Mummy. Jimmy Has No Dad. His Daddy Shot His Mummy and That Made Jimmy Sad.’

Jim stopped to pick up a stick in the woods behind the school, a tear hitting the ground and he stretched. He pulled the stick along behind him, hitting the other twigs and   
roots before making his way through the forest and into the mid afternoon sun.

He took all of the back alleys he could find, turning his half hour hike home into a forty five minute stride, sometimes pushing it to an hour long journey.

Jim let the stick bounce off the fence posts of the back gardens he walked by, trying to match the plonk plonk sound with the beating of his heart. He failed every attempt,   
realizing he couldn’t walk slow enough to match it and keep the stick from hitting the ground.

Jimmy abandoned the dead wood in the back garden alley when he exited onto the street. He watched as two of his cousins, Connor and Laurie, stop at the shop across the road from where Jim stood. 

He used the alley to keep himself as hidden as possible, but Laurie still spotted him as they exited. She gave him a small, kind smile as she followed her slightly older brother down the road.

Jim felt isolated. Though his aunt and uncle loved and cared for him as though he were one of their own, they had already had six of their own, adding Little Jimmy to the brood when his parents passed. At seven he was the new second-youngest, unsure of his place in the family. 

He had been the only child of a quiet, violent, well-to-do couple for six years of his life. To be suddenly thrust into a family of boisterous, loving, barely-getting-by relatives he’d never met after the events that had occurred turned the introverted, reluctant James into a hesitant, people-frightened Little Jimmy. He barely spoke a word to anyone, even his aunt and uncle, in the six months he had been with them. His new family did their best, but they didn’t replace his mother.

Jimmy took a deep breath, swallowing the bulk of the tears that were fighting for freedom and soldiering out of the alleyway towards home.

He patted the thirty pence in his pocket as he looked back on the shop his cousins had visited. Once a week his aunt wrangled together enough change for each of the school children to buy themselves a treat. Candy, gum, chocolate. ‘Whatever your little heart desires James.’ She told him. He had never been allowed sweets. His father forbade it, claiming it rotten not only teeth but minds the like. He took the money every week. It tore at him deeply. Having been strictly taught never to talk back to his elders, he couldn’t find a polite and respectful way to refuse the money. He took it and kept it, not spending one cent of the money. Today’s thirty pence brought his total to seven pounds eighty. Money he planned on giving back to his aunt once he found a way to go about it in which his father would approve.

Jimmy continued on his walk home, crossing the street and making his way across the bullring to the next back garden alleyway. The most exposed part of his walk.

This was his only unavoidable territory. It was impossible to get home without crossing the bullring, situated between the school and his aunt and uncle’s modest home. It was the heart of the town. No one saw part of their day without at least passing through it. 

Including everyone else at school.

Jim planned his walk carefully to ensure the minimum number of school children would be making their way home at the same time he did. He made his walk extra long for the express purpose of not encountering bullies in the bullring.

But today was different.

Today was the first day they waited for him.

Jim sucked up his courage and put a brave face on. He took silent steps in a direct path across the ring and kept his focus on the alleyway in the distance.

Though it didn’t do him much good.

As soon as the children spotted him he descended like flies, rushing toward him as he ran on forward, catching up to him just before he reached the alleyway.

“Whatsa matter Jimmy? Why ya running home Jimmy? Ain’t got no Mum waitin for ya.”

“Little Jimmy Moriarty ain’t got no parents.”

“No one to look after him.”

The circle of seven started closing in on him and his breathing picked up. He was starting to panic and closed his eyes, turning his head down to wait for the beating that usually came with these altercations.

Except today was different.

There was a giant whooshing sound before anyone could raise a hand to little Jimmy. They all turned towards the noise and screamed when a blue police box materialized   
out of thin air just next to the alleyway.

Most of the children ran off instantly, frightened by the magic it created and noise the brakes made. When it finally hushed only one boy, the biggest of the bunch, remained with Jim, who held his form, covering his head with his arms now.

The door to the police box pushed open and a cloud of white smoke plumbed from within, followed by a man with wild brown hair and a bow tie.

He starred the boy down, keeping eye contact with him until they were a millimeter away from touching nose to nose.

“Run along now,” he said in a deep, paced monotone “before something bad happens to you.”

The lad, shaking and near tears, scurried off in the direction he came, back towards the wealthy neighbourhood.

Jim was quaking in his too big shoes. He had missed whatever had happened, but he knew two things. 

One: All the children had been frightened off and

Two: Whatever scared them was standing right in front of him.


End file.
